A ripple in the jetstream provided a brief respite from damp cool
showery weather to deliver a bright blue sky and a lukewarm eighteen
degree morning. A modest gathering of hashers including Mike (The Gnome)
and Linda visiting again from Portsmouth HHH listened to the usual verbiage
from the hares. Interestingly, since we were running within the Forest of
Bere, we were advised to look around any regroups for something with a
similar sounding name.

Given no help from the start the pack spread out in all directions, so there
was a period of time when nothing much seemed to be happening. Some appeared
to be suffering a bit of attention deficit as they stopped looking for flour
and started to play on the sturdily built objects in the playground next to
the car park.

Spiderman broke the spell by finding blobs leading south east and insisting
that we follow him. Soon Sinbad was charging off in the lead closely followed
by Flash, The Gnome, Kermit and Thom. It was not long before they ran out of
trail at the next check which had many false directions, and must have taken
quite a while for the hares to lay. The true trail proved elusive, some muttering
about giving up and returning to the playground before someone stumbled on to it
and we were off again.

A pleasant unbroken jog to the south eastern corner of the woods ensued using a
lovely winding, flat, open, and dry trail beneath a lush summer canopy. The regroup
ending this section had been erased completely with no sign of it ever having existed.

West was the direction from the restart with classic hashing taking us all the way over
to just south of Creech Lodge where The Gnome's beer sniffing prowess soon discovered
a cache of Boddys and other isotonic liquids. After several toasts to the hares,
a session of snaps from Flash, a failed attempt to remember any jovial songs, and
a few juicy belches we were on our way again down a brambley overgrown path and
across the road, heading north.

Nearing the pond the soggy peat made tough going, the ballet dancing of those just
avoiding a tumble was brought to a grand finale by Dogwhistle with a brilliant back
flip into the mire.

The remainder of the trail took us, without incident, east around Creech House to
reach a road re-cross and the On-In through nettles after one hour and ten minutes.

At the circle our JM's announced a competition for the "Chichester hash song",
appropriate words set to a favourite tune, they didn't mention prizes. Bika was
mentioned for his chivalry in catching a falling harriet, and there was a big round
of beer induced applause for the hares.

Yours truly was presented with the Hash-It due to a propensity for nominating others.
The Harvest Home was the hostelry of choice apres Hash.